


Healing Hands

by uvreactive



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uvreactive/pseuds/uvreactive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Directly post-Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier has been found and captured by Natasha and Steve, and the two attempt to bring Bucky back—Steve’s POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

A dull thud—a whump—and Steve's mind shot back to when he was little, skinny, and Bucky's arm pounded his back, “don't worry, Steve, let's get a drink and forget about it,” after his sixth failed attempt to enlist. But it wasn't Bucky's arm, really, it was that metal thing, and this time the contact hurt. The whirr of the crashing helicarrier’s engines overwhelmed his hearing.

 

And now Steve was pouring cereal for Bucky to eat with that arm, that hand. Mindlessly drifting away from the routine task, Steve felt himself waking up on the beach, blinking sunlight into his waterlogged eyes, then being carried on a stretcher into that ferocious-looking SUV, rushed through buildings, healing, staggering—but he felt alright now. He healed quickly, and was sure the sudden pain in his back was not lingering from his fall. It had been three days since he and Natasha had captured the Winter Soldier, a success that neither party wholly understood. Natasha had brought some sort of drug, Steve had seen through the Winter Soldier to Bucky for a split second, and it was over in a matter of minutes. Steve’s stomach turned as he remembered the close contact with the Winter Soldier, holding him so specifically so Natasha could come from behind and jab the needle into his neck. It didn’t seem right. But now here he was, pouring cereal for the Winter Soldier, and pleading with every fiber of his being to be able to see Bucky in there every time he looked.

 

Bucky spoke, sometimes. It even seemed like his own words could occasionally escape the bars of his lips. But mostly it was routine acquiescence—when Bucky would acquiesce. The first few days with Natasha and Steve, the two had to keep the Winter Soldier bound up tight to stop his efforts to hurt himself and to escape. When he stopped struggling, Steve would feed him bread, or occasionally crackers. Spoons had to come later—more than once, Bucky had chipped a tooth on the metal, gnashing his teeth, either too hungry or too self-destructive to take the soup into his mouth with soft lips.

 

Steve shook his head.

 

Mostly, the Winter Soldier would not even make eye contact. Natasha's piercing eyes could hold the Winter Soldier's, but Steve would wince at the contortions of Bucky's face and body and interrupt her grip. The Winter Soldier had been hiding when Steve finally found him, his eyes bright and reddened, not smudged with black, with the Bucky Steve knew stuck not so far into himself. Sometimes Steve thought he could only see Bucky's face in the body of the Winter Soldier because of those eyes. “Who is Bucky?” still rang throughout Steve’s head any time he had a few moments to himself, when he left the hideout Natasha had found for them to gather supplies—food, water, some more modern clothes he thought Bucky might have liked, no, that Bucky might like, c’mon Steve, it’s not like he’s gone, he’s right here in front of you. At first, the clothes were meant to keep Buck comfortable, soft shirts and hooded sweatshirts like the one Natasha had brought him for the disguise, and Steve was reminded of just how much his trust in SHIELD had been broken. No way he could let them get any glimpse of Bucky now. But today Steve brought back a pair of black slacks and a light grey button-down in the sizes Natasha had told him, handing him crisp new bills whose origin Steve didn’t care to know. “This’ll cover it. Drive five miles past the supermarket, you’ll see a mall—a large collection of stores. Enter through the west door, and the second store on your right will be called ‘Express’.” Steve had thought that this meant the store might be quick and cheap. It was neither. But it did have the sharp clothing that Bucky would always wear on dates, albeit not so new or nearly as expensive as this clothing. But everything was more expensive now, so Steve quickly shrugged off his guilt and walked out with a branded bag. 

On the drive back from the ‘mall’, Steve steeled himself for a fight, and perhaps another attack by the Winter Soldier that might destroy these new clothes. It wasn’t good to get your hopes up with Bucky—their conversations were more often than not a disappointing setback—but Steve found it hard to expect so little from the man who had never failed to rescue him.

When Steve arrived at the hideout, Natasha was kneeling in front of Bucky, feeding him more cereal. Good, Steve thought, he hasn’t eaten this much this quickly. Another thought intruded for a second, Bucky buying the two of them corn dogs at Coney Island, one for Steve which he couldn’t quite finish, and two for Buck which he consumed ravenously, going on to finish what Steve couldn’t as well. Natasha turned around quickly, seemingly startled by Steve’s entrance, and he snapped back to the situation at hand.

“Hey. You got ‘em?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. Bucky’s eyes had shifted from Natasha to him, and suddenly all thought of purpose was wiped from his mind. He set the bag down softly behind Natasha and gently took the cereal and spoon from her hands.

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hello.”

“How’s about more cereal for you?”

“Okay.”

The spoon dipped into milk, catching a few of the round cereal bits when it came up, and found its way into Bucky’s slightly opened mouth. Bucky dutifully closed his lips around the spoon, Steve removing it slowly, making sure no milk would escape. Bucky chewed slowly, once, twice, three times, and swallowed, lifting eyes back up to Steve. 

“It’s good to see you eating more.”

Bucky just stared. 

“милый мой, we’ve got a present for you,” Natasha intoned. Bucky’s eyes snapped to her at the nickname. Steve didn’t care what she called Bucky if it made him pay that much attention. “It’s some new clothes. Come try them on.” Natasha shot a pointed look to Steve, who hesitated for a second, but slowly began removing the restraints. He was happy Bucky was so calm, but had never seen him look more like the Winter Soldier. The restraints came off, first one ankle, then another, then a wrist, then finally the three special clips were free of the metal arm. The Winter Soldier remained still. Steve didn’t like it one bit. Natasha beckoned to the Winter Soldier, who made his way across the room lightly, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Take your clothes off, and put these on.” The Winter Soldier’s flesh-and-blood hand reached up to unzip the hoodie, the zipper coming down with a zzzzzip and tink¬-ing against the metal arm a few times before the hoodie was all the way off. Bucky’s human hand reached behind his neck to grab the collar of his shirt, and pulled it off over his head slowly and deliberately. Before, when Steve had dressed him, he had seen the scarring around the metal shoulder, and had briefly touched a scar once, resulting in a flinch from Bucky, and then the metal arm straining at its confines so hard that Steve dared not attempt it again. Right now Steve just stared. The Winter Soldier’s thumbs hooked in the waistband of his sweatpants--“Bucky, stop. Natasha, this isn’t right. Look at him.”

 

Exposed from the waist up, placid and steel-eyed, the Winter Soldier stood in the small room of the hideout.

“I’ll help you put them on. Just like you used to help me, Buck, remember? When it was so cold in the apartment that I’d be shaking too much to dress myself? Or when I’d be coughing too much? I’ll help ya, Bucky, c’mon.”

The Winter Soldier just stared.

“Steve, you’ve got to give him orders. That’s what he understands,” Natasha half-whispered. “He’s waiting for another order.”

“I won’t have him taking orders from me!” Steve nearly shouted, startling both himself and the Winter Soldier, who began to look more confused, or uncomfortable, than resigned. “What are we doing, if he’s only taking orders from us?”

“Well what do you want to be doing, Steve? This is at least something.”

“We could be doing something different.” A pause. “I know about you and the Winter Soldier.”

“What?!” This time it was Natasha’s turn to almost scream. 

“I don’t think less of you for anything you did back then. And I know more than you think I do.”

“Clearly,” she said with a touch of petulance.

“You loved him as much as I do. Why do you think I asked you on this mission? Love. And trust.”

“Two things you know I can’t do.”

“I think you’ve demonstrated otherwise. Come on, Natasha. Bucky needs his best girl.”

“He was never Bucky with me. If you want Bucky and not the Winter Soldier, you’ll need to go in there and get him yourself.”

The Winter Soldier continued to stand stock still, taking in conversation about him, people talking about him like he wasn’t there. This he was used to; this he could deal with. It was only if he listened too closely that he started to become confused.

“If you’re going to do that, I need to leave you two alone.”

“Natasha, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll be right outside the door. If I hear anything, I’ll be right back in.”


End file.
